


Of Books, the end of the world, and lunch

by grandmatabs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Universe, Crowley Being a Bastard (Good Omens), Oneshot, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandmatabs/pseuds/grandmatabs
Summary: I see all of these wonderful, well written and romantic stories involved Crowley and Aziraphale and their wings and I thought, what if I wrote Crowley being obnoxious instead?





	Of Books, the end of the world, and lunch

Crowley was _ bored _ . Oh yes, stopping the end of the world was all well and good, as was gaining freedom from the bonds of hell and all of that jazz. Only now he had nothing to do. There was no reason to go off tempting humans or creating any great, elaborate inconveniences (he still caught himself starting it at times, before remembering there was nobody to send memos to). It wasn’t that he missed the work, or the pressure for that matter. He rather liked feeling no obligation to make everyone around him miserable.  
It was just that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now. Of course there were his plants, and a fair amount of drinking and there was Aziraphale. They were no longer on opposite sides and thus Crowley had assumed he would be able to entertain himself by invading the angel’s personal life.  
As it turned out, the angel’s personal life was not very entertaining. He drank cocoa and puttered around his shop and, mostly, he read. He could read for hours and hours, completely out of touch with the rest of the world. Even when Crowley tried to drag him out of his reverie, Aziraphale would tut admonishingly and remind Crowley that it would do him some good to crack open a book for once.  
Crowley had tried. He had never been as against the idea of reading as he acted; he only liked to see that little line that appeared on Aziraphale’s forehead when said that he didn’t have the time for it. Well, now he had all the time in the world. It didn’t take him long to discover that it was that he didn’t have the _ time _ to read, he just didn’t have the _ patience _ for it. He was a restless reader, picking up one book and getting bored a chapter in and switching to another book.  
After about an hour of that, Crowley forced himself to sit down with an old copy of ‘The Scarlet Letter’ and at least pretended to read it while watching Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye.  
“You’re not being very subtle, my dear.” Aziraphale said after about a quarter of an hour had passed without Crowley turning a page. Crowley huffed. He looked back down at the book and frowned. He could leave and run off to find something more entertaining to do, but he was only here because he had already run out of other things to do. Boredom really was the cruelest master, it seemed.  
On a whim, Crowley loosed his wings behind him. Sitting on the couch, it took some adjusting to get them situated behind him, accidentally smacking Aziraphale in the back of the head in the process. The angel was sitting at his reading desk and apparently quite intent on ignoring Crowley, as he said nothing in response.  
Crowley gave an experimental flutter of his wings, stirring up a breeze that disturbed the papers on Aziraphale’s desk. Aziraphale snapped a hand on top of the papers to keep them in place and said nothing. Crowley might have pouted, if Aziraphale was seated at just enough of an angel that he could see Crowley out of the corner of his eye if he tried. _ If he tried. _ Crowley strived to look as innocent and unaware as possible, all the while very carefully flitting the tip of one wing across the back of Aziraphale’s neck.  
There was an audible huff from the angel, but nothing else. A minute later, Crowley more obviously dragged the edge of a wing across the side of Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale lightly smacked it away. Next, Crowley sifted the bottom of a wing through the top of Aziraphale’s hair, leaving it a tousled mess. That at least rewarded him with an angry, over the shoulder glare.  
“Do you mind?” The words were laced with thin warning. Crowley batted his eyes and painted on the closest thing to angelic innocence as a demon could manage.  
“What’s that?” He draped an arm over the back of the sofa and lowered the book which had been inconspicuously raised to cover his face. Aziraphale might have perfected a glare to frighten off human customers, but so far he hadn’t found one that could send Crowley into hiding.  
Aziraphale looked like he might say something more (even on the verge of being a threat) but instead he snapped his mouth shut, gave one last glare for good measure, and turned back to his book. Crowley prepared to swing his wing back, but before he could get within a foot, Aziraphale’s own wings sprung out and blocked him. Aziraphale himself snapped his book shut and stood. He spun around, all kinds of righteous, angelic fury in his golden eyes.  
“Now, if you do not-”  
“Good then,” Crowley interrupted, tossing his book back on the couch. “Now that I’ve got your attention, how do you feel about lunch?” He smiled pleasantly up at Aziraphale. The righteous, angelic fury faded to companionable annoyance (with just a touch of affection) as Aziraphale tucked his wings back away.  
“You really are impossible to get along with. And you are paying.” He held out a hand and Crowley took it to launch himself up from the couch, tucking his own wings away as his did. He grinned, unapologetically.  
“Worse things. Where to, then?”


End file.
